AND ANOTHER GEM - YASS - HAY (8 OCTOBER 2015)

By comparison with our last leg from Canberra to Yass, today was to be a long one, and as we shall see, it became unexpectedly longer than planned. We have travelled the Sturt Highway on many occasions. This time, rather than an overnight stay at one of the larger highway towns, we decided to try something different, in the form of the tiny farming town of Carrathool, 15 kms north of the highway some 50 kms east of Hay. Here, as our phone enquiry confirmed, we could pull in behind the newly rebuilt community pub (the old one burnt down in very strange circumstances!)

After taking our sad and reluctant leave of Troysie and Hens who were staying on for another day in Yass, we returned to the Hume Highway and made our way south-west along this excellent thoroughfare. 

The town of Gundagai and its famous statue of the Dog on the Tuckerbox (which in reality is so small....the first time I saw it it reminded me of that iconic statue of the Mermaid in Copenhagen harbour....I nearly walked right by it....the photos made it look much bigger) was soon in our rear vision mirrors and within the next 40 kms we felt as though we really were on the way home. 'Adelaide' on a highway sign...we had not seen that for a very long time.

We had now joined the Sturt Highway which felt  like an old friend to both of us. I had not been particularly looking forward to the drive through Wagga itself, which I recalled as being very busy and riddled with intersections controlled by traffic lights. To my surprise, as we carefully picked our way through, I realised that my recall had been on the darker side of accurate. Or was it that by now experience had served to blunt the pressure previously felt in these traffic conditions?

In any event, we were on the other side of Wagga in no time and settling down for the next 95 kms to Narrandera. I have to say that on these longer stretches of very little, the temptation to 'put the foot down' is almost irresistible. 

But when towing 'the brick' anything over 90 kms carries a fuel bill clout, and when I err, 'The Navigator' (who can monitor our speed on our screen mounted Tom Tom) morphs instantly into her other role, as 'The Treasurer'. The seemingly innocuous enquiry, "are we going a bit fast?" carries a much sharper connotation in these circumstances  "Sorry, love...not thinking" (read, 'damn it, I'm getting bored and she's caught me out'!)

By the time we had by-passed Narrandera we were well into our day's travel. In fact we had completed what we thought at that stage was to be the lion's share of it..

Some 100 kms further to the east and we were on high alert for the junction which would take us to Carathool. This we duly found and we turned north. Here the road soon took us over the Murrumbidgee River on one of Australia's most interesting bridges.

We were crossing the river on an Allen-type (he was the State Government engineer who designed it) timber truss road bridge (shown here courtesy of Wikipedia)





The lifting span, which allowed the passage of river traffic, is of the 'bascule' type, where the span is raised with the help of a counter-weight. This is only one of three of this style of bridge left in NSW, and the only timber one. It is listed on both the National Trust and NSW Heritage registers.

This was all very interesting so far, and then, as I know you have been expecting to read, things took a turn for the worse. Suffice it to say at this point that we were both very glad we had not travelled far to reach this tiny farming community town.

Despite our previous intentions, we did not tarry long in Carrathool, irrespective of whatever rural charm and good company it may have harboured. As we pulled up opposite the hotel, I was immediately concerned about what I could see by way of caravan accommodation. Ah, well, 'books and covers' and all that.....off I went into the pub. Here I was greeted by a lass clearly of Asian extraction, who, in response to my enquiry about our van site, promptly handed me a key and told me, "that will be $50".  

Needless to say I was more than a little confused. When I asked if that was the key to the ablutions and pointed out that we were after a caravan site (already pre-booked) she spluttered on about thinking I was seeking a night's accommodation in one of the very average looking dongas which graced (?) the pub's rear yard.....hardly, I thought, even in the worst of circumstances.

My fairly terse reminder that I had actually rung ahead re a van site cleared the air for a moment, but only until I then asked to be shown where we could pull in. Off we went, out to the quite small back yard of the premises, overlooked completely by the rear beer garden deck. 

I won't bore you with more of this other than to say that the patch I was offered was pure dirt, within no more than twenty metres of the edge of the rear pub deck, and right on top of the dongas.....and there was neither power nor water readily available. 

Plan 'B' time. As we drove out of Carrathool, Liz phone ahead to Hay. We had previously stayed at the Hay Caravan Park which is some distance out of town. It was OK, but this time we opted for a change. The Hay Plains Caravan Park became our new overnight destination.

Well, there are times on the road when you arrive somewhere and think 'what the hell have we done?', and then there are those other occasions such as we were about to experience when we can't believe our luck.






The Hay Plains Caravan Park is an absolute cracker.  We were allocated a lovely site under large shade trees












which, because things were not frantically busy, we could enter as a drive-thru.

Lovely gardens (terrible photo!), masses of lawn,














plenty of shade, even for this row of cabins,














an excellent camp kitchen.













and an adequate park pool.









This is a real gem of a park. It even features something we had never come across before. Here the en suite sites have their own roof to shield weary travellers from the blazing Hay Plains sun.

All the roadways are heavily gravelled to prevent dust, the amenities were clean and functional and then, to top it all off,













the South Hay Hotel is less than a minute away across the road from the park entrance.







This is a good old fashioned country pub. After what had become a very long day on the road, all 460 kms of it, there was no way either of us felt like cooking. We were not the only park residents to wander across for an evening meal. Like our park, it too was very good. 

There are a few times when the travel gods smile down on us really broadly....this was one of them. The Hay Plains Caravan Park is now firmly established as our preferred resting spot when using the Sturt Highway in the future.

WE FIND A HIDDEN GEM AND CATCH UP WITH VERY OLD FRIENDS - YASS (5 - 7 OCTOBER 2015)

Farewell and sincere thanks, Olivia and Dean......hello Troy and Hens. Hens Bannink has been one of my closest friends since he came to Adelaide for three months in the summer of 1974 as the engineer in charge of maintaining our first Surf Rescue helicopter. He and his wife Troy (real name Barbara....no-one calls her that....long story), who live in Sydney, decided that they could spare a few days to catch up with us as we were making our way back to Adelaide. What an excellent idea.

None of us had ever previously been to Yass, although we had all driven past it on the Hume Highway innumerable times. We decided that this would be a great opportunity to meet here and see what we had been missing. 

I do like short days on the road, and this was to be one of the shortest on record....north out of Canberra on the Barton Highway, through the quaintly named small town of Murrumbateman which is something of a tourist destination in its own right (food and wine) 

and thence onto the duel laned Hume Highway for a few brief kilometres before turning off into Yass.

As we entered the top end of the main street

and made our way further along it 

we drove past many buildings which gave credence to the the claim that this is indeed an 'historic' town.

I should say at this point that we did wander around the Yass CBD on a number of occasions, but the camera was firmly locked away. We were here to socialise with friends and make a preliminary assessment of what was on offer for the tourist in Yass and its surrounds.  And the answer to that question is 'plenty'....Yass is what we would describe as a hidden gem. 

Our own observations aside, we chatted to one fellow park resident who was quite open about the fact that he and his wife had 'called in' for a day or so and were still here a week later. They had been out touring locally each day and were still not finished. We fully intend to revisit this lovely town for as long as it takes, hopefully in 2016.

But for now, we had friends to meet and tales to tell. The Banninks had arrived the day before we did and Hens, in his inimitably practical style, had arranged with the park managers to allow us to set our vans up so our awnings faced each other. Because of the universal rule (for safety reasons if an urgent evacuation becomes necessary) that vans must face the roadway, this is rarely possible, but here in Yass the park is structured in such a way that it is not only possible, it is legal.

And here I must pause to comment that Louise and Ross, who are currently managing the Yass Caravan Park, rate as one of the most welcoming and obliging couples we have ever encountered. We hope they are still here when we revisit.

Ross walked us to our patch on our arrival and we were soon settled on what turned out to be a huge site,

where the Black Panther very quickly decided that this would do him.

We had done a spot of menu planning over the phone....tonight was to be a 'mixed grill' of entree type nibbles.  Grilled haloumi cheese and pita bread, little frankfurters hot from the pot, chevapcici straight off the BBQ etc etc....why had we not thought of this before? This was an ideal way to get the social ball rolling (although I have to admit it was Liz who carried the Marshies banner long into the night....I 'retired hurt' much earlier.

I would like to say that, with a wisdom which has come with age, I have learnt to pace myself when it comes to party time, but I wouldn't dare insult your collective intelligence! The fact of the matter was that my annoying auto immune system ailment tapped me on the shoulder....my early retirement had much more to do with fatigue that common sense...that and the fact that I knew tomorrow night was 'roast lamb night'...this was to be the big one.  I needed all the rest I could get.

Hens had been given a bottle of St Henri shiraz by a grateful client some weeks before our Yass rendezvous. "Do you know much about this one, Pete?"  "Just a bit, old mate, but only from a distance....we are talking $100 plus a bottle here."  The scene was set.

Whilst the good old Baby Q slowly cooked the joint to succulent perfection, we roasted the veggies in our oven whilst Hens made sure that the carving knife was honed to a fine edge.

The much anticipated bottle took pride of place on the table

and we sat down to a most memorable meal.

Oddly enough it didn't end there. After a traditional desert of apple pie and ice cream it was time to repair indoors for coffee and liqueurs. The Bannink van is always very well stocked... we managed to make some significant dents in the proffered bottles of Drambuie and Cointreau before the night was out. 

As it transpired, we were very lucky with the weather for this evening's festivities. The following day saw in a very cool change. 

Here at the Yass Caravan Park, Louise and Ross host a regular afternoon happy hour in the small park camp kitchen. All in the park are invited. We joined in with verve...there is no better way to swap travel notes. 

For the first two afternoons this had been a shorts and T shirt affair, but not today. When the weather here turns chilly it means it. 

Pre-dinner drinks 'Chez Bannink' later that evening was very much a rugged up affair....it was bloody freezing. This became the 'Nanook of the North' competition! But as I am sure I needn't labour, we did manage to have another very jolly night.

We have travelled and camped with Troy and Hens a lot over the years. This had been as good a three days as we had anticipated and I have to say we left Yass with great reluctance. We look forward to our next planned rendezvous....a repeat of three years ago at the Mudgee race weekend in late April - early May. I'd better start planning my training regime!

A VERY SPORTING WEEKEND IN CANBERRA (3 - 4 OCTOBER 2015)

What a pleasure it was to rise to the realisation that today's travel was to be a mere 90 kms. After the past two days that seemed to 'balance the books' somewhat and I am more than happy to report that we covered the distance and negotiated the Canberra traffic with ease. 

I was a little apprehensive about spending a couple of nights parked in a suburban street, but mine host Dean had assured me that there would be plenty of room and that the street itself was very quiet. 

He was right on both counts.

I did have to become a little creative with supporting blocks to ensure that the van was level, but once this was done it was time to socialise.

The annual Canberra Floriade festival was in full swing at the time of our arrival. In fact, apart from the real convenience of staying at the home of our friends, we had little orther choice. My attempts  to find a caravan park site in or near Canberra six months previously had met with total failure.....the entire place had been booked out months before. It would appear that a vast percentage of Australia's grey nomad population descend on the Nation's capital for Floriade. 

There was one remaining alternative, a spot in the temporary caravan park established in one of Canberra's showgrounds, but at something in the order of $50 + per night for an unpowered site, where, as we saw driving past 'crowded' is a mild description of the end result, we were delighted to be anchored in suburban Kaleen.

As I have indicated in the heading of this missive, we had arrived in Canberra on the winter sporting weekend of the year, that of the the AFL and NRL Grand Finals. What a coup...to be able to watch these events in the comfort of a lounge room, on a big screen, with good friends and the large fridge not too far away....marvellous. 

Irrespective of the fact that the much awaited AFL match was something of a flop as a spectacle, we did enjoy the afternoon before settling down to a most welcome home cooked dinner. And then things did liven up considerably.  Liz had provided strawberries for sweets, which she had liberally enhanced with a drop or two of Bundy liqueur rum. 

Well, of course, that soon led to a comparative tasting.......Dean just happened to have the odd bottle or two of some rather eclectic brews.

"Just what is this, Dean?" Now, as you would expect, as the perfect guests, we did feel it our duty to sample all that was on offer, and as you would equally expect, we were a little chirpy by the time we made it out to our mobile bedroom.

A very good night's sleep, a strong, hot shower and Dean's fine cooked breakfast were all that were needed the following morning to restore vim and vigour.  We had a full day ahead of us.

We began our jaunt around Canberra with a mandatory visit to Mount Ainslie, the iconic Canberra lookout which was not too far from our digs. There is a very good reason this is so popular. Even on a hazy morning such as this, 'postcard Canberra' is spread out below.

Our hosts were keen to take us to the Floriade, despite our assurances that we had been to one some years ago and, based on that experience, we suspected that the traffic would be horrendous and parking impossible. All too true....."Let's move on!"

And what a surprise was in store for us. As I am sure you will all remember, much of the bushland around Canberra, and sadly many suburban homes, were destroyed some years ago by what could only be described as a firestorm. Obviously much has since been rebuilt, but in one area the decision was taken to develop an expansive arboretum on the previously scorched hillsides. 

Below the imperious gaze of this steel eagle perched on a nest constructed of metal odds and ends, with the huge communication tower on Canberra's Black Mountain in the background,

the slopes of the arboretum stretch out in all directions. The number of tree plantings is extraordinary.....thousands of varying varieties, many exotic, have been set into the ground in massed groups. In ten years of so this place will surely rate as one of Australia's real tourist attractions.

From our vantage point we could also look out over one of the country's most well known homes, Yarralumla. Nice piece of real estate. How hard is it to become the Governor General?

Given that the proposed Floriade venture had been put to rest, we now had some time on our hands. The NRL Grand Final is an evening affair, so the rest of the day was free. Dean treated us to a most interesting drive around much of the countryside of the Australian Capital Territory, where we were amazed to find many most inviting rural picnic areas on the banks of local rivers and particularly in the surrounds of the Canberra water supply dam.

Our tour included a quick lunch break at the Tidbinbilla Deep Space Complex, where a very good cafe caters for the needs of those who come to view this massive dish through which scientists from Australia's CSIRO probe the mysteries of the universe in conjunction with folk from NASA. 




This is a very impressive area, as this photo courtesy of the official CDSCC/NASA

website shows. The dish itself is enormous. It is much larger than its (probably more famous) counterpart near Parkes, and certainly dwarfs that which was part of our daily landscape for the four months we spent in Carnarvon. Our schedule for the day did not allow for a tour of the complex....another for 'The List'.

For indeed we had other fish to fry. The 2015 Grand Final of that other oval ball code, the NRL, was due to begin in the early evening. With all the time we have spent in the eastern states over the past few years, I have developed some understanding of this game and a grudging respect for those involved. This particular encounter, which was to be an all Queensland affair (that's the NRL equivalent of an AFL final which does not include a Victorian team) had divided the household.....Dean and I were plumping for a Cowboys victory, whilst the girls had decided that the Broncos needed their support.

But before all this nonsense, there was the matter of food.  We had undertaken to repay our hosts' generosity with a BBQ.  A quick trip to the local shops (which are dotted throughout all the Canberra suburbs) where we found a first class butcher, and we were ready to roll.





As you may have gathered I am never happier than when standing over a good barby, apron on and tongs in hand. This was no exception.









The newly added back deck of Olivia and Dean's home was the perfect venue for a spot of al fresco dining on a mild Canberra evening. (I know 'mild' and 'Canberra' do not often go together at this time of the year, but we had cracked it!) We soon set to. As a quick aside, we still use the recipe for Livvy's marvellous potato salad!









And, of course, this was the time for a few 'holdiday snaps', of our wonderful hosts














and herself, getting in on the action with 'the boys'!









As it transpired, this very pleasant meal was but the precursor to an incredible evening, one on which we were treated to what all the pundits have agreed was the best NRL Grand Final ever played. But who won? The Cowboys, of course, who, having scored a try in the last 30 seconds of normal time to level the score (unheard of) then went on to win in 'golden point' overtime. 

This had been a game which, if scripted as a Hollywood film, would have drawn a scathing critique for its improbability/fairy tale ending etc. But it happened. What a match!

As true gentlemen, Dean and I were generous in our condolences to our fair partners, but I suspect our largesse was viewed which some scepticism. As you might imagine, our meal had been liberally washed down with assorted products of both grain and grape. It had been equally necessary to ensure that our vocal chords had been well lubricated during the game. 

Dean's proffered home made whisky night caps, which I have to say by that time tasted like a fine single malt, was probably not an entirely necessary adjunct to the evening's entertainment, but what the hell.....we had enjoyed a marvellous two days with these 'friends of the road' and were in no mood for bed. 

The next morning brought with it a slightly different view of that decision, but today was to be the one of the shortest days on the road we had ever undertaken. Our destination was Yass, a mere sub 60 kms journey. More 'jollies' were looming!